


it don't feel right but it's not wrong

by WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)



Series: 3 Sentence Fics [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, 3 Sentence Fiction, Angst, Avengers Tower, Backstory, Character Study, Community: be_compromised, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mind Control, Partnership, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prompted Fiction, Spies & Assassins, Various AUs, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:26:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various, unrelated 3-sentence fics for Clint and Natasha prompted at the Be Compromised community or written for memes, etc.</p><p> </p><p>"Those hips better lie," Clint retorted heatedly.</p><p>Natasha shot him a look and demanded, "Excuse me, Agent Barton?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the [ATTF: Three Sentence Ficathon!](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/414660.html?thread=8003524#t8003524)

**A Matter of Taste**

* * *

Prompted by spyforaday: _When Natasha finally agrees to move-in to Stark/Avengers Tower, Clint is consulted to make sure her suite is appropriate for the one and only Black Widow_.

* * *

"No, no, and no."  
  
"But she likes weapons!" Tony protested, quite justifiably in his opinion: Natasha regularly bristled with lethal items, including but not limited to literally any object on her person.  
  
Clint just shook his head and repeated, "No, Stark; she will not appreciate a gun display wall in her bedroom."

 

 

 

 

 

****Those Promises You Keep** **

* * *

Prompted by franztastisch: _These hips don't lie_.

* * *

"Those hips better lie," Clint retorted heatedly.  
  
Natasha shot him a look and demanded, "Excuse me, Agent Barton?"  
  
"You sashay for every mark who's susceptible," he reminded her, "but last I checked, the only one who gets them is me."

 

 

 

 

 

**Hey, Honey, It's Me**

* * *

Prompted by alphaflyer: _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_

* * *

"Agent Barton, do you have a lock on the target?" Coulson's mild but exasperated voice came over the comm, again.  
  
Clint pulled the comm out of his ear and picked up his gaping jaw, though he prudently kept the arrow pointed in case this was one of those new fangled life model decoys Fury'd been going on about. "Honey?"

 

...

 

"Clint," Natasha began, looking positively puzzled, "what are you doing here?"  
  
Yep, that was definitely the real deal and not a life model decoy; he'd never met anyone that could fake her exact expressions.  
  
He put the comm back in his ear and told Coulson where to tell Fury to put his kill order.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three sentences fics written for the random songlist meme where you pick a pairing, put your music on shuffle, and write.
> 
>  
> 
> Songs: Elastic Heart by Sia, How You Learn to Live Alone by Jonathan Jackson, Can't Get It Right by Sam Palladio, Eavesdrop by The Civil Wars, Home by Ingrid Michaelson

_you won't see me fall apart ('cause I've got an elastic heart)_

Natasha stood over Clint as he rasped her name, her eyes drawing together slightly in a frown of consideration rather than concern. Through every time she had held him wounded or bloody in her arms, every time he had known the tenderness or pain of her touch as she rescued him, fought for him, held his skin together so he wouldn't bleed out, he had never seen the tenderness reach her eyes.

He saw her draw back her fist to knock the rest of Loki out of his head and knew that this was the Tasha who would be whole and strong for him: she would wait until she was alone to fall apart into pieces.

 

_it don't feel right but it's not wrong (it's just hard to start again this far along)_

Clint fell into a deep sleep before his back had barely hit the bed, and he woke in a depth of silence that brought something choking up in his throat. His fingers gripped something sharp and solid under the pillow as he noticed every hint of shadow, every gleam of morning light in his apartment that had never registered before—the sights and shapes of home, the weight dipping down the mattress beside him…

He had the knife up before he had time to register the familiar warm scent, scrubbed of perfume, the trail of red curls, the familiar green eyes over the familiar touch of Natasha's hand gently taking the weapon, and he let her because it was Natasha, because he trusted her, because he didn’t need to hear her voice and she didn't need to speak for that trust to pass between them.

 

_counting up the lines on the highway (like I'm counting my regrets)_

Hotels passed in blurs like the yellow lines of roads passing beneath the wheels of Clint's car. Arrows blurred into targets, silences passed where brotherly banter used to fill the air, and he crashed into strange streets in strange bed after strange bed.

"I killed my brother," Natasha told him once, voice soft and dark with the admission, another red name bleeding into her ledger, and he'd laughed so darkly and bitterly because she always thought he was somehow better than she was until he'd looked into her surprised eyes and told her, "I did too."

 

_I don't want to talk right now (I just want your arms wrapped around)_

Love is for children.

Clint's eyes were dark and wounded, but his voice soft and understanding, but he _didn't_ understand, he didn't, so Natasha tightened her hand around his, begging him with her eyes to stay and not walk away.

She had no words to bridge the gap between the fundamental difference in how they viewed the world, but she held on until he gently tugged her into his arms and she could finally breathe again.

 

_I've always known (with you I am home)_

Natasha stayed with him through the recovery in the hospital with none of her usual restlessness at being immersed in the medical wing of SHIELD, and Clint wasn't entirely certain he understood it, but he was grateful as he watched her sleep with the ease of her capability of doing whatever must be done and listen to the doctor carefully for aftercare instructions. They were partners and nothing felt quite right anymore if they were separated.

"Finally, we can go home," Clint said at the end with a grin, but she just gave him the oddest look and opened her mouth as if to answer before stopping herself, shaking her head, and tucking her hand into his.


End file.
